


car grease

by blue_slate



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Sex, F/F, Porn With Plot, You're Welcome, doing the goddess's work, it's gratuitous smut!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24613735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_slate/pseuds/blue_slate
Summary: Collar Automotive is Edwin's pride and joy. Raelle has since taken over as head mechanic of the garage, and her days are filled with oil changes and fixing engines. Raelle knows she's good with her hands, but she doesn't know the extent of it until Scylla Ramshorn comes into her garage, needing repairs.ORthe car mechanic au nobody asked for but I wrote anyway.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 16
Kudos: 333





	car grease

**Author's Note:**

> this pic was brought to you by me (a dumbass) and my editor jess (not a dumbass). enjoy and don't forget to leave kudos!

The phone goes off for the third time in ten minutes, and Raelle groans, walking over from the underside of the car, lifted into the air. Another standard oil change, but with the rate of calls, she’s going to need all day to get this done. 

She wipes her grease covered hands onto the pants of her coveralls, the upper half tied around her waist to compensate for the hot day. Raelle reaches over the desk, picking up the ringing phone and pressing it to her ear. 

“Collar Automotive, how may I help you?” Raelle asks, her cheerful customer-service voice coming out. 

_ “Hi Rae! Just calling to make sure that you’re coming tonight for the party, right?”  _

“Tal,” Raelle sighs, “How many times have I told you  _ not _ to call the work phone when I’m working? Call me on my cell phone, like a regular person.” 

_ “You weren’t picking up. I thought you had gotten stuck underneath a car,”  _ Tally remarks crisply, but she returns to her normal, cheery self only moments later.  _ “So are you coming or not?”  _

“Yes, Tal, I’m coming to your engagement party, as are my parents. We wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that,” Raelle says, rolling her eyes. She wipes her hand on the back of her forehead before some droplets of sweat drip onto her cheeks. “But before I can come, I have to finish all of my cars. Can’t leave the shop without—” 

_ “Finishing all of your jobs, yes, we get it, Raelle. You’re a busy shitbird, as Abigail would put it,” _ Tally replies.  _ “Just clean up before you come over, yeah? Don’t want you to smell like oil and car grease around my guests.”  _

“So stingy, but as you wish, princess,” Raelle retorts. “I’m hanging up now.” 

_ “Bye!”  _

Raelle puts the phone down and walks back to the current task at hand. An oil change. She spins the socket wrench around in her hand a few times, before going to the oil pan and twisting the cap off. She yanks her hand back just in time to watch the black oil pour out into the bucket below, and she feels satisfied. It’s not an easy task to get away from oil unscathed, in this line of work especially. 

As the oil drains, Raelle checks her calendar for the rest of the day. This was a quick oil change, only an hour’s worth of work. After this, she has another client coming in. A one Scylla Ramshorn, for squealing brakes on an old truck. Not a problem. 

The owner of the car Raelle's just finished repairing comes in and pays. They’re on their way quickly, driving through the wide cargo bay doors of the auto shop. 

Collar Automotive has been the family pride and joy ever since it was founded decades ago. Edwin’s dad founded it— soon passed onto Edwin when he was old enough, and now Raelle’s nearly ready to take over and make it better. Sure, it’s fine as it is, but everything can always be made more efficient and better. 

Raelle’s mother would’ve liked her daughter to follow her into the medical field and take over Collar Medical Industries. But Raelle has found that she’s much better at fixing cars than humans. 

A cherry red truck pulls up in front of the shop as Raelle finishes washing her hands. She adjusts the worn out cap on top of her head, twisting it around as she squints at the figure stepping out of their truck. 

“Hi!” It’s the voice of a bubbly woman, and she’s walking towards Raelle, dressed in a fine blazer and pressed pants combo that screams corporate overlord. Raelle thinks how the car doesn’t match the woman whatsoever, but she’s too distracted by the flowing oak brown hair and steely blue eyes to care. 

“Hey, you Scylla?” Raelle asks, and the woman nods. 

“That would be me. You must be Raelle, right? I spoke with you on the phone late yesterday,” Scylla says, the corner of her lip turning up into a smile. “I’ve heard this place lives up to its name.” 

Raelle looks up fondly to the neon sign hung over the garage door, then back to Scylla. “So, brake problems?” 

Scylla pats the hood of the truck with a grin. “Started squeaking yesterday morning. Did a quick Google search, and was told that I should get it checked out right away. And well, here we are.” 

“Alright, well, I’ll take your keys and get this beauty into the garage,” Raelle says, extending her hand. Scylla drops the keys easily into Raelle’s palm with a certain flair. Raelle wonders if it comes from her line of work. But she doesn’t butt into the personal lives of her customers. 

So, she takes the keys and reverses the truck onto the vehicle lift, then raises the truck into the air so she’s level with the tires. 

Scylla, much to Raelle’s surprise, seems content to stick around in the garage, despite the heat. Raelle feels somewhat guilty— the air conditioning here is non-existent, and the summer months make this place a sauna, and not a nice one at that. 

“If you want water, there’s a fridge behind the counter, on me,” Raelle says, glancing over her shoulder as she tugs on a pair of gloves. Scylla just smiles from her spot, perched on an old stool in front of the counter. 

“I’m good. I feel refreshed just looking at you. A tall glass of cold water on a hot day, hm,” Scylla remarks, a sly smile curling onto her lips. 

Raelle’s face burns, and it certainly isn’t from the heat. She turns back to the wheel, suddenly becoming very invested in her job.  _ Focus, Raelle. Just do this job, then you can go home and dunk yourself in ice.  _ Raelle inhales, and turns the wrenches to take off the nuts on the wheel to take a closer look at the brake pads. 

And, just like she suspected, the brake pads are entirely worn out. 

“How many miles are on your car—” Raelle’s voice trails off when she looks back again, because Scylla has abandoned her jacket, which now rests on the counter. She’s in the midst of rolling the cuffs of her sleeves up to her elbows, and the buttons of her shirt are undone nearly to the center of her chest, and Raelle feels very thirsty all the sudden. 

“Hm?” Scylla asks, and there’s a sparkle in her eye, like she knows  _ exactly _ what she’s doing. 

“Your brake pads are worn out,” Raelle says, swallowing the lump in her throat when she spots the veins in Scylla’s strong hands.  _ Get a grip, collar.  _ “I think I have some new ones in the stock room, if you want them replaced tonight.” 

“Sounds good to me. You’re the mechanic here,” Scylla replies, running a hand through her hair and tilting her chin up. Raelle diverts her eyes back to the car, and inhales shakily.  _ Christ.  _

She goes back to the stockroom, finding the correct brake pads. They always have some back here— they live near a desert, and there are a bunch of dune buggies that come through here, so it’s just normal to have more than they need. Because, in times like right now, it comes in handy. No having to wait for a shipment. 

When she goes back out to the front room of the garage, Scylla is on a phone call. 

“Yes, Boss, I’m coming tonight. No, I won’t embarrass you in front of everyone, I’ll be nice,” Scylla says, curling a strand of her hair around her finger as she watches Raelle cross the room, back to the red truck. Raelle’s face heats in a blush when Scylla’s eyes rake her up and down, then flick back to her face. “And I got that spreadsheet to your secretary for your meeting tomorrow morning, as well.” 

Raelle can’t hear whatever Scylla’s boss is saying, so she simply busies herself with replacing the brake pads. 

“No, I’m not at the office still, I’ll have you know I left on time,” Scylla says, and Raelle’s ears perk. “I’m sitting and enjoying a fantastic view right now.” 

Raelle chokes on air. 

“Mhm, I’ll see you tonight, Boss. Don’t stay too late,” Scylla says, and then there’s the sound of the call ending. 

“What do you do?” Raelle asks, simply curious.

“Oh, I work at a medical office. Manufacturing equipment to be distributed to low-funded hospitals,” Scylla responds, and Raelle rounds the car to fix the final brake pad. “What about you? Been working here your whole life?” 

“Practically, yeah. As soon as I was old enough to hold a wrench, I was in here, learning from my pops how to put cars back together,” Raelle says. She adjusts the brake pad ever so slightly, before sealing it into place with the wrench. 

“You must be  _ very _ talented with your hands,” Scylla says, her voice low, and the innuendo comes to smack Raelle in the face like a fish. Then the next part comes out so low that Raelle barely hears it, “Wonder what else those hands can do.” 

Raelle struggles to contain the noise that threatens to escape, as she hoists the tires back into place and winds them up. She’s keenly aware of Scylla’s eyes on her the entire time, watchful and attentive, much like a hawk circling its prey. 

Finally, Raelle lowers the car, and just for safety, she takes a quick spin around the block. She comes back to the garage with no noises, and when she gets out of the truck, Scylla has her jacket folded on her arm, and a shining credit card between her fingers. 

Raelle runs through the inventory and the receipt, and goes over everything with Scylla. It’s tradition— making sure the customer knows what happened and ensuring them that they weren’t scammed for more money. A reason behind their shining five star rating. 

As Raelle organizes her tools in the rack for the night, Scylla calls out, “Oh, there’s one more thing I wanted to ask you.” 

“Yeah?” Raelle looks over her shoulder, to where Scylla has one leg propped up on the running board, one hand on the frame of the truck. 

“There’s been an issue with the steering wheel shaking. It’s not too bad, but if you don’t mind?” Scylla asks, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. “I know you’re about to close shop, I can come back tomorrow.” 

Raelle shakes her head. “No, it’s not a problem.” 

Raelle walks over to the car, and Scylla doesn’t move, so she climbs into the driver's seat anyway. 

“Alright, let’s see—” 

Raelle finds herself speechless when Scylla’s blazer goes flying past her into the passenger seat, and then Scylla is pulling herself up in a flash. Her leg swings over Raelle’s, straddling her easily, and they’re face to face, almost chest to chest, in the cab of Scylla’s truck. 

There’s a gold necklace dangling from Scylla’s neck, and it catches in the light. Raelle finds herself frozen like a deer in headlights. 

“Hi,” Scylla whispers, her free hand resting on the back of the chair Raelle sits in. “Thought I oughta give you a good tip, hm?” 

Well, then. 

Raelle doesn’t complain as Scylla leans forward, sealing their lips together in a kiss that sucks all the air out of Raelle’s chest. Not even a few seconds in, Raelle feels lightheaded from the intensity radiating from Scylla Ramshorn. Raelle’s hands fly to Scylla’s chin, keeping her close, and Scylla takes the invitation to press herself closer to Raelle. 

_ Best tip ever _ , Raelle thinks briefly, a slight smile coming onto her face as the kiss breaks for only a moment, before Scylla is surging onto her again. Scylla is a storm, making Raelle crackle with electricity she can feel shocking her to life. 

Scylla’s tongue swipes past Raelle’s lips, probing gently, and Raelle can only comply to the wordless request. The fabric of Scylla’s shirt is wrinkling as Raelle runs her hands across it, but Scylla doesn’t seem to give a damn. And, well, Raelle’s in coveralls. It’s a win-win situation, clearly. 

Because, quite frankly, Raelle hasn’t kissed a girl in a  _ long _ time, and Scylla? Scylla’s a goddess damn  _ catch.  _

Hurried hands undo the front of Scylla’s pants, and Scylla’s shifts on the seat, dipping her head to press scattered kisses on Raelle’s neck. 

“Fuck,” Raelle whispers, her hands shaking as she finally pops the button on Scylla’s pressed pants. Raelle dips her hand down the front of Scylla’s underwear, and Scylla rolls her hips forward with a moan slipping through her lips. 

Scylla’s hands grab at Raelle’s hair, pulling her into a searing kiss that leaves Raelle burning up from the inside. Raelle’s hands are slick as she moves her fingers back and forth, and Scylla is hot in her lap and moaning in a low voice right in Raelle’s ear. 

“Right there,” Scylla whispers, her hips bucking against Raelle’s hand. Raelle rubs the heel of her palm against Scylla’s sensitive spot, and the loud whine that comes from Scylla’s lips is nothing short of heavenly. There’s a few more thrusts and Scylla freezes up, her grip in Raelle’s hair becoming tight and eliciting pleasure at the base of Raelle’s spine. Scylla relaxes a few seconds later, sagging in Raelle’s lap. 

Raelle gently pulls her fingers out Scylla’s silky warmth. Before she can wipe her fingers on her tank top, Scylla’s grabbing her wrist. 

Scylla’s hands are shaking slightly as she brings Raelle’s fingers to her mouth, and Raelle’s eyes widen as Scylla wraps her lips around Raelle’s fingers. She sucks gently, her eyes locked on Raelle’s, and Raelle feels trapped in the trance of the commanding woman in her lap. Scylla’s tongue licks and cleans Raelle’s fingers effortlessly, and Raelle lets out a low sigh. 

Scylla’s gaze is heavy enough that Raelle can feel it and she squirms in the seat, watching as Scylla’s chest heaves up and down. 

“Your turn,” Scylla whispers, and she reaches around Raelle, and pulls the lever on the side of the seat. The seat reclines and Raelle is lowered back until she’s laying down, and Scylla pushes her further up the seat a bit more until she has enough room to lean back. 

Wordlessly, Scylla sinks down, her hands on Raelle’s coveralls and she pulls them down with ease. Scylla’s eyes linger on the dark briefs that Raelle wears, before looping her fingers in the waistband of Raelle’s underwear. 

“May I?” Scylla whispers, and Raelle nods jerkily.  _ Damn the consequences.  _

There’s a brazen hunger in Scylla’s eyes that makes Raelle feel like she’s a painting and Scylla is a collector eyeing her latest acquisition. 

There’s a low hum in Scylla’s throat as she pulls Raelle’s underwear all the way down to her calves. Raelle feels like she’s dripping  _ everywhere _ , but Scylla doesn’t seem to mind in the least as her hands roam up the side of Raelle’s thighs, palming the strong muscles there. 

And then Scylla’s tongue is pressing right against the apex of Raelle’s thighs, right where Raelle needs her most. Her tongue is bold, licking with just the right amount of pressure and Raelle has to bite down on her wrist to keep herself from crying out. Scylla holds tight to Raelle’s thighs, kneading the skin like dough and spreading Raelle farther apart. Scylla licks like she’s addicted to the taste and Raelle can feel her insides melting like iron in a forge, just waiting to be molded into something new. 

“Fuck,” Raelle moans, shutting her eyes tightly as her fingers thread through Scylla’s hair, tightening and pulling her face closer. But, Scylla pulls away, her breath hot against Raelle’s throbbing core. 

“Say please,” Scylla whispers, her fingers sliding through the folds easily. 

And Raelle doesn’t even hesitate. 

_ “Please.”  _

“Good girl,” Scylla hums before diving back in, adding her fingers to the mix until three lithe and long fingers are working Raelle until she reaches that crest. Tingles blossom from Raelle’s fingertips and toes until the feeling spreads throughout her entire body, and the coiled tension in her stomach  _ bursts.  _

A loud moan floods out of Raelle as her orgasm hits her like a tidal wave, flooding through her entire body. Scylla pulls away, and she’s licking her lips like she just ate the world’s tastiest dinner. Raelle feels like jello. 

“That was  _ delicious _ ,” Scylla says, licking her lips. “Unfortunately, darling, I have to go.” 

Scylla gets off of Raelle’s lap just long enough for Raelle to clamber out, pulling up her briefs and her coveralls back up to her waist. Scylla pulls herself into the driver’s seat, and says with a low drawl, “I’ll be sure to give you a five star rating.”

With a face redder than a tomato, Raelle retreats to the counter, busying herself with taking inventory of the storeroom while Scylla leaves. The roar of the truck echoes the thundering of Raelle’s heart until she can’t hear it anymore. 

“Jesus,” Raelle whispers, running her hands over her face. What the fuck just happened?

~~~~~

Beneath Raelle, the rumble of her motorcycle is comforting as she winds through the streets of her hometown. Like any other desert town, it gets cold at night— thankfully, she’s got her warmest leather jacket on. 

At a stoplight, she glances at her watch. She’ll only be twenty minutes late, and Tally’s an understanding woman. Raelle got distracted (clearly) at work after Scylla, so she barely had any time when she got home to put together a decent outfit before hitting the road. 

Raelle’s mind wanders back to Scylla. Raelle certainly didn’t mind, it was just… a surprise. Came out of left field and hit Raelle like a boulder. And now, she can’t stop thinking about the softness of Scylla’s lips, or the low moans that—

The music blaring through her earbuds changes tempo, and it jolts Raelle back to the present. 

_ Focus, shitbird, _ as Abigail would say. 

She turns into the suburban neighborhood. It’s a wonder that Gerit and Tally waited this long to get engaged— they bought a  _ house _ together before getting engaged. 

Raelle laughs.  _ A house? In this economy?  _

471 Salem Lane. Raelle parks her bike in front of the house, pushing down the kickstand with the steel toe of her boot. When she turns off the engine of her cruiser, she can hear the sounds of the engagement party— music and the chatter of guests can be heard from the back yard. Raelle sighs as she steps off her bike, and unstraps her helmet. 

She wanders towards the house, and by the time she reaches the front door, Tally Craven— soon to be Buttonwood— is already there, a wide smile on her cheeks and her ginger hair flowing down her back. 

“There you are! I heard your bike from down the street, my gosh,” Tally says, grabbing Raelle’s arm and pulling her in. “Put your helmet with the coats, and come join us in the backyard! We have a bartender!” 

Tally’s clearly a few drinks in, if the copper mug in her hand is any indication. Raelle sighs, setting her helmet down on a table in the hallway as well as her riding backpack. She takes the engagement present, wrapped shoddily with a blue bow, and puts it with the gigantic stack of other presents. 

_ Craven knows how to throw a party, that’s for sure, _ Raelle thinks. The smell of hor d’oeuvres floats to Raelle’s nose, and she walks out into the backyard. String lights and boho lanterns have been set up around the space, with tables and folding chairs. It’s all very pleasant and domestic— makes Raelle’s nose scrunch up. The thought of being  _ domestic _ and settling down with someone seems so foriegn to her. 

“There’s our shitbird, late as always,” Abigail teases, walking up to Raelle with two drinks in her hands. She extends one to Raelle, who quickly takes it. Abigail’s dressed in her finest regalia for the night— a blue dress that shows off her legs that go on for miles and a pair of heels that only make her taller. 

Raelle has a thing for tall people, so what? Everybody does. 

“You’re lucky I don’t have grease all over my hands, Bellweather,” Raelle responds, taking a sip of the moscow mule. There’s a hint of pineapple— just the way Raelle likes it. 

Abigail rolls her eyes, and her fingers come to tug on the leather of Raelle’s jacket. “You  _ did _ get the memo for the dress code, right? I know it didn’t say ‘wear your leather jacket like you always do’.” 

“Hey, this is my finest, most expensive leather jacket,” Raelle defends, swatting Abigail’s hand away. “And I wore a button-up. Hop off my dick, Bellweather.” 

“Someone’s grumpy tonight,” Abigail says, poking Raelle’s shoulder. “Sounds to me like  _ you _ need to get laid.” 

“Abs, not everything is about sex,” Raelle retorts, hoping that her blush isn’t obvious when memories of earlier resurface. Raelle can only imagine Abigail’s reaction if she knew what had happened at the garage. 

Abigail’s brow climbs upward, but she doesn’t say anything as Tally bounces over, her yellow dress flowing in her wake. 

“Hey, Rae! Your parents are here, and I think your mom brought one of her employees, or work friends,” Tally says, throwing her arm around Raelle’s shoulder as they turn around to look at the door on the porch, and Raelle’s jaw drops. 

Oh,  _ fuck _ . 

“Hi, honey!” Willa calls out, coming down the steps quickly to wrap her daughter in a tight hug. “Have you met my COO, Scylla Ramshorn?” 

And there’s Scylla, dressed in an even finer suit than the one Raelle saw her in hours ago. No undershirt and the sleeves of her sleek, maroon blazer are pushed up to her elbows. 

“Got my truck fixed up by her today, actually,” Scylla says, her lips colored the same deep shade as her suit. She doesn’t hesitate to come over and pull Raelle into a hug. Her breath is hot on Raelle’s neck, and Scylla’s hand lingers on Raelle’s waist when they part. Raelle can’t find any words to say— she’s beyond shocked to see Scylla here. 

“That’s my girl,” Edwin says, clapping Raelle on the shoulder. Raelle coughs awkwardly and smiles tightly. Scylla’s eyes have yet to leave her, and it feels like she’s being stared at like a piece of meat. 

Scylla’s seen more of Raelle than Abigail or Tally has, and Raelle feels severely awkward now. 

There’s some congratulations from the Collars to Tally, who is absolutely basking in the attention. Raelle sees Gerit with his guy friends and his family in the back, and there’s plain adoration in his eyes when Tally walks over to him. 

_ Good for them,  _ Raelle thinks. 

“They’re adorable, aren’t they?” Scylla asks, and Raelle almost drops her refilled mug of booze. 

“Yeah,” Raelle agrees quietly. “They are. They deserve everything in the world.” 

“You think?” Scylla asks, and she slides closer to Raelle. The smell of pine needles and lavender wafts off the collar of Scylla’s suit, and Raelle finds herself being pulled in by the scent. But, there’s more important things on Raelle’s mind. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that you worked for my mom?” Raelle asks, and Scylla inhales, sliding her hands into the pockets of her tight slacks. 

“It didn’t seem important,” Scylla replies quietly with a small shrug. 

Raelle sighs, running a hand absently through her hair. 

“Okay, look, I’m sorry,” Scylla says suddenly, and Raelle turns to look at her. Scylla smiles briefly, before swallowing. “I didn’t want your first impression of me to be just… be your mom’s employee.” 

“So you decided to fuck me in your truck?” Raelle asks dryly, and Scylla’s lips purse. 

“I’ll admit, that was not the best way to introduce myself,” Scylla says, pressing her palms together. 

“Yeah, my hand down your pants wasn’t the best idea either,” Raele says, biting the inside of her cheek. “ _ Goddess, _ you work for my mom! Really? You screwed your boss’s daughter?” 

Scylla barks out a laugh, and Raelle can’t be mad about it because it’s borderline hilarious. Something out of a sappy romance novel that old ladies love reading. 

“Okay, fine, how about this?” Scylla says, then turns to face Raelle. She holds out her hand. “Scylla Ramshorn, COO of Collar Medical.” 

Raelle glances down to Scylla’s hand, before shrugging. To hell with it. “Raelle Collar, mechanic.” 

“A  _ sexy _ mechanic, I might add,” Scylla whispers, before taking a sip from her martini. 

“Hold your horses, there, Ramshorn,” Raelle says, then smiles. She looks out to the engagement party, where Gerit and Tally are now locked in a tight embrace as they dance on the makeshift dance floor. For a moment, Raelle can’t help but think she wants that. 

“Want to play a drinking game with me?” Scylla asks, her voice amused. 

Raelle looks over at the brunette. “That’s the best sentence I’ve ever heard.”

~~~~~

“Shitbird! I need my car fixed!” Abigail calls out into the garage, and Raelle slides out from beneath a car, a wrench in hand and an unamused look on her face. Abigail puts her hands on her hips. “There you are.”

“Abigail, I don’t do walk-ins. We do something called  _ appointments _ around here,” Raelle says as she sits up, gesturing to the garage around her. 

Abigail’s brow cocks. “Can I make an appointment, then? Preferably right after you’re finished with this car.” 

Raelle looks at Abigail for a few seconds. “You’re insufferable.” 

“I know I am, what about it?” Abigail replies, and Raelle stands up, walking over to the counter. As Raelle checks the calendar for a spot for Abigail and her car troubles, the Bellweather presses her hands against the metal counter. “Where have you been, lately? Tal and I have missed you at our  _ mandatory _ girls nights.” 

“Don’t get your underwear in a twist, Bellweather, I’ve been busy doing things,” Raelle replies, typing Abigail’s name into a free slot at the end of the day.  _ Things,  _ meaning Scylla. 

“Oh, really?” Abigail replies, a slight smile on her face. 

“Yes, really,” Raelle says, going back to the car. But before she can kneel down to the slider and go back under, she hears the clicking of heels on concrete. Raelle’s head spins, and a grin comes to her face as she sees Scylla walking in, dressed to the nines in her usual shirt and blazer combo. 

“Hi, darling,” Scylla says with a small smile on her lips. Raelle makes grabby hands, and Scylla puts her hands on Raelle’s chin, bringing her in for a kiss that leaves Raelle’s heart full and Abigail’s jaw on the ground. 

“Wait, wait, wait, you’re dating her? Didn’t you guys meet a week ago at Tally’s engagement party?” Abigail says, her eyes flipping between the two of them at a rapid pace. 

“We met before that,” Scylla replies, a hint of deviousness in her eyes. 

“O—  _ oh, _ ” Abigail catches the innuendo easily, and hums. “Well, I never thought my shitbird would manage to get a woman as fine as you.” 

“Hands off, Bellweather,” Raelle narrows her eyes at Abigail, who merely raises her hands with a faint smirk of amusement on her face. Raelle turns her head to admire Scylla in her grey blazer. “She’s mine.” 

“I get it, Collar, you’re possessive. Just fix my car and keep it in your pants,” Abigail replies with a smirk. Scylla gives Raelle a side eye that only they know the meaning of. And thank the goddess, because Abigail would throw a fit if she knew what really happened. 

Abigail leaves soon after that, and Scylla looks at Raelle with a smirk. 

“Need help taking inventory?” Scylla whispers, her hand running over the firm muscle of Raelle’s arm. 

“Always,” Raelle says, before letting Scylla drag her away. 

  
  



End file.
